A New Game
by Edele Weiss
Summary: "My name is Ib. I know I've been through a nightmare and came back alive. I just don't know what it was. There's something crucial I've forgotten, and I'm sure it's important to me." There is no time in this place. If there is no time, who is to say any of the events taken place here have happened at all? Even death can be rewritten. But only if one can remember who to save.
1. Chapter 1

**_A New Game_**

My name is Ib. I know I've been through a nightmare and came back alive. I just don't know what it was. There's something crucial I've forgotten, and I'm sure it's important to me.

Every time I'm sad or lonely, I find my way to the Guertena gallery. I always wander the halls, and eventually I end up gathering some sort of sense to wonder why I was there, and what I was looking for. My body moved on it's own, like it was searching for something. It was like it knew a fact of life that I didn't. What did I forget?

Shaking my head, I tried in vain to tell myself to forget about it. There really was nothing to make me act like this, it was all a psychological game I played with myself. To make it seem like my life was the least bit interesting. I sighed and stood up from my spot in the shade of a tree to the blinding sun.

My feet began to walk, I knew it would be another trip to the museum. Well, I deserved it this time. It had been a bad day. College wasn't all that it was cracked up to be; so many assignments and projects, not to mention the teachers and other students one has to contend with. Today, an art project I had been working on for days was ruined by a girl who spilled her coffee on it. She didn't even apologize. I didn't bother to make a deal out of it, I would just start over. But I had really liked that piece. It was of a young, pretty girl with long blond curls that fell over her antique green dress. There was now a coffee stain over the left side of her hair, darkening her features like a scar. I took a moment to pull it out of my bag and grimace at it, but shoved it right back in. There was no point griping about what was lost.

I shook my head and walked in the double doors into the familiar front room. The lady at the desk waved at me, she knew this gallery was practically my second home. A few old couples wandered the many rooms, one small group of children from a school trip.

All looked typical that day, though it did not take long for me to realize that _something_ was different. The energy in the place, the very air had been changed. It wasn't my familiar gallery anymore. Out of the corner of my eye, shadows seemed to move on their own accord and morphed into entirely new beings all on their own.

Chills ran up my spine. This eerie feeling almost seemed like a whole different world.

I pulled out my sketchbook, trying to get my mind off of it. Surely it was only my imagination causing this sensation. It was just a bad day was all.

Equipped with my pencil, my hand flew across the page, detailing the infamous "Forgotten Portrait" I had sat in front of. The man's face was peaceful and comforting, like a long lost friend's. Peace was something I desperately needed at that moment.

Whispers abounded around me and I attributed them to the intrigued murmurs of guests. It wasn't until much later that I peered around me to find that the lights had dimmed substantially and no one was around. I assumed most of the people had gone home now that it must have almost been time for the gallery to close.

That was, until the lights went out. I swore I could hear a small laugh from a child. Then the lights flickered back on. Nothing seemed out of place, not until my eyes set on the single child in the room.

A young version of myself smiled, cinnamon eyes glistening.

"Welcome home Ib."

The lights flickered once more, and she was gone. By this time I had stood, now shaking slightly from shock. There was a flash of recollection, a jumble of mixed up sequences in my mind that made no sense but at the same time made all the sense in the world to me. I remembered that the path of my life had been shaped by an event that happened in this gallery.

Then I ran. I ran through the gallery in urgency. I had to find it, I just had to find it.

Then I stopped. What was I looking for?

What _was_ it?

There was a tiny object that caught my attention on the floor. I knelt down and picked it up as if I was holding a feather.

A single blue rose petal.

For some reason, I could not tear my eyes from it. I stood there, cradling it in my hands. My entire focus was directed onto this lone petal. It almost felt like my entire existence could be described onto this one fragment of a rose.

Then a voice broke through my nostalgic silence.

"It's been such a long time! Wanna play?"

_So, it's my first time writing a fanfiction. Usually, I don't write such short chapters for anything, but for this story I think I will. Personal preference for the short and sweet I guess. But hey, that means frequent chapters so yay for that! I would be so happy if you would favorite and review it. I really love Ib and the story, so this is my sequel to the first game. Or how I think it should go anyway. If you haven't realized, it's based on the "Forgotten Portrait" ending, though I'm pretty sure it was obvious. Well, I that's all for now! Thanks for reading! :D_


	2. Chapter 2

**Piece One**

Ice ran through my blood. I knew that voice, a voice I knew I never wanted to hear again. I didn't know how I knew that, but I did. The feeling attacked to this voice wasn't only that though, it was loneliness and pity. Someone who knew how it felt to be cut off from society.

I turned and stared at the girl who spoke. Curls of golden locks cascaded down her chest, her emerald dress perfect and prim. The left side of her hair though, had obviously been dyed brown. An exact replica of my own painting that had been ruined. But it was much more than that. I knew this girl, I knew her long before I had ever begun that project. And here she stood in front of me once more, as another flash of memory danced across my brain.

"Mary." A voice spoke, and I didn't realize it was my own until she cocked her head in surprise. My mouth had replied on it's own, the name Mary had just slipped out without my knowing.

"So you remember."

I couldn't disagree with her that I remembered who she was, nor her name, or how she connected with me. So I stood there, not answering, trying to make some sense out of it all.

She smiled and took my hand. "Follow me Ib. I need to show you something."

We ran through the gallery, now moving in all forms of the word. The paintings spoke and conversed, the statues stirred and shifted, the very walls wavered in their solidity. I did my best to ignore them, though it was obvious I could not hold a reasonable explanation about this place for very long.

Mary led me down halls I swore were not there before, winding down many turns until I was dizzy. Then there was a door. She stood by my side and waited for me to open it. I cautiously did so, the handle turning ever so slowly. The door finally creaked open, and inside was a very plain room. The only item in the room was a painting in the center of the far wall I immediately recognized. It was the painting I had done, coffee stain and all. The little girl in the work smiled a bit more than I thought I had painted her.

"What do you think Ib? My new room is plain, but it's nice because I get to decorate it the way I want." I peered at the 3d version of my painting, the real Mary. I really did recognize her, not just as someone from a dream. Most certainly a memory. I never painted anyone I had never seen before.

"Mary, what am I doing here?" Again, I spoke without meaning to. Though I didn't mind, I wanted to know the answer. Any answers.

"You came because you wanted to fix it. You wanted to change the ending."

"But I don't remember what I need to fix." My eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.

She shrugged. "Learn as you go. Remember as you see."

Mary took my hand again and pulled me from the room. I was led back down the twisting hallways back to the front room. She hugged me then. I hugged hesitantly back, unsure how to take this.

"I guess we're going to play a game now. A new game. You have to win, or you have to lose. It's up to you now. The rules have changed, so get ready Ib."

"What game Mar-" The lights went off and the building shook. I fell over, trying to get a grasp on anything strong enough to keep me stable. I hit my head on something hard, and the trembling faded away as my consciousness did.

"Learn as you go. Remember as you see."

The girl's voice repeated those words in the darkness, and I could barely make out the last sentence that was whispered almost directly in my ear.

"It's time to start a new game."


	3. Chapter 3

**_ Piece Two_**

_There is no time in this place. If there is no time, who is to say any of the events taken place here have happened at all? Even death can be rewritten. It can, but only if one can remember who to save. In this twisted fairytale, only cowards can break free. Only those who face their darkest nightmares will find paradise amongst hell_.

I jolted awake. Taking in my new surroundings, I realized the furniture in the small room mirrored my own grandmother's.

The room itself was square and plain, nothing like my grandmother's living room. Yet here sat her redwood coffee table and olive patterned couch. Even the large grandfather clock stood undisturbed as if it had sat there for centuries.

I remembered that clock well. When I was little, I would run to the clock and stare in wonder as it's hourly chimes echoed through the house. Me and my grandmother's little black poodle, Annie, would play with a ball in the shadow of this clock. I was only four, but I thought of it as one of my dearest childhood memories. My grandmother had long since passed on, as did Annie.

I couldn't understand why this was happening. It was supposed to be just another day at the gallery. Somehow though, I was not surprised at all about this-there was something nostalgically somber to this dark side of the gallery.

I wandered through the room and paused in front of the clock. There were no signs of dust, as if it was still sitting in the living room of a different house. My hand trailed down the side of it, searching for one little indent that would prove this was indeed my clock.

Then, there at the corner, was a minute nick in the wood. This was where I had tripped and fallen, the ceramic dish I was carrying had given it a direct hit. Though it was a small dent and barely noticeable, it was all the proof in the world.

There was silence. I checked the clock, and it was frozen in place. It was hardly unexpected, seeing as time stopped here.

"How did I know that?" My question was voiced aloud, hoping someone would answer me. I just wanted to know what I had forgotten.

I tried the door. Of course, it was locked. I had to work out how to open it, I was certain of that. How to do that, I had no idea. Wandering around the room, there were many potential hiding places for a key.

"Well, I have time to look for it don't I?" I gave a rueful chuckle, another memory flashed in my head. A puzzle. It was a puzzle.

The couch was the first place I looked, but with no luck. Then came the table, and still nothing. My sights turned to the grandfather clock, the one place I didn't really want to look for the key. In my mind, searching the clock meant searching through my childhood memories.

I opened the glass covering over the face of the timepiece, and careful searching proved fruitless. Taking a deep breath, I sat on my knees in front of the glass that separated me from the pendulum that hung down. My hands carefully pried the wooden frame and swung it open. I didn't want to touch it though. Time was my enemy. It always has been. And yet, it still felt like time was passing even if it had stopped there.

Sighing in resignation, I reached behind the pendulum to find the key I knew had been there the whole time. I didn't want to open the door to the unknown. Then again, who ever does?

Finally I gathered enough determination to slip the key into the lock and crack it open. I peeked out and jerked in surprise at what lay before me in the next room.

A man was sitting against the wall, and he appeared to be asleep. I stared through the tiny slit I had opened between the door and the frame. I studied him carefully, even more so than I had done with the blue rose petal. This man seemed to give me unspoken answers by simply existing. By just sleeping. How many minutes, or even hours had passed since first spotting the man, I don't know. There was no time to compare it to anyway so it could have been weeks.

Then, he moved. It was only slightly, just to breathe. But it was the last thing I was expecting. I wanted to sit there and stare at him for the rest of my life, it never occurred to me that he was living.

I was sent reeling back into my grandmother's room, crashing into the coffee table. I sat unmoving, taking deep, shuddering breaths. I remembered the color of blue, I remembered a rose. And all the pain it had given me.

"Garry. I found you."


	4. Chapter 4

_**Piece Three**_

_We are not afraid of time. We are afraid of the events that happen within it. Past or future, we cower from them. We hope never to move from that spot we are safe in, and we hope nothing bad ever happens to us. And yet, we don't bat an eye when we see others in despair or hear of a tragedy. There is no good and there is no bad. There are only events in which we pass through. The feelings we have during those times are irrelevant._

The door was left slightly ajar, not allowing me to see the man who slept so soundly against the wall.

Garry.

I knew that was his name, and I knew _him_. My sane mind could plainly tell me that I had never met him in my life, but there was an undying feeling of longing in my chest. My thoughts repeating the words-it's him, it's him, it's _him_!

At some point, I must have crawled back over to the door because I was now watching him as he slept quietly. I had briefly wondered if I could wake him, though it was a nonsensical thought.

He couldn't wake up.

It was impossible.

"Nothing is impossible in the Fabricated World." I had spoken without thinking again. The sentence itself was confusing, as I was sure I had not even known what the name of this place was. I guess I really did know then. It was infuriating though, I couldn't even control my actions, much less my thoughts. Words were spoken that I had not thought, and I could not say what I wanted to.

But all of the frustrations melted away when I drunk in the vision my brain had called Garry. He was a vision, even I knew he wasn't supposed to be there. And there he sat, his chest rising and falling as though nothing had happened.

Wait, what did happen? Wracking my head for any info on that topic came back as a blank.

Against my will, I pushed the door farther and inched forward toward him. My heart beat faster as I came closer to him. The next thing I knew was that I was in front of him.

This time I had full control of my actions. I brushed the hair out of his eyes and leaned forward. My lips had barely brushed his soft cheek when his eyes fluttered open. Unprepared for this, I stumbled backwards, landing oh so gracefully on my bottom.

He looked around, seeming baffled for a moment before he noticed me. I knew I had paled and my eyes were as big as saucers as he set his attention on me. Garry opened and closed his mouth a couple times before finding his voice.

"Ib?" He asked, clearly puzzled, "Is that you?"

I took a deep breath and answered in a small voice, "Y-yea. It's Ib."

"You're...older?" He turned his head, trying to get a better look. Or he was trying to see if what he saw was correct. It was uncomfortable having him look me over like that.

"Um, yes?" Even if I couldn't remember when I met him before, I knew I had to be a young girl. _Stupid amnesia_, I thought dully.

We did not break eye contact for a long while, until he reached forward to wipe a tear I wasn't aware I had shed. It was then that he drew me into a tight hug and I let everything I had held back for those many years flow freely onto his shirt. I had missed him so much.

Tears ran down my cheeks as I buried my face into his cool chest. I felt him smile into my hair while I was comforted by his mere presence. Being in this place scared me to my very core, though it was familiar and almost felt like it was a second home to me. How could a place so scary be so...the word that comes to mind is "mine." It was quite obvious to me this place was no form of the word, but it made complete sense.

Garry spoke, his voice lulled me into safety.

"It's alright Ib. Everything's okay now."

For some reason, this made me cry harder. It was my fault. I didn't know how, but it was my fault he was here, sleeping. And it was my fault I had forgotten him.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Piece Four_**

_Only the most vivid dreams are remembered. It is the nightmares that are most often remembered. Nearly all of the time, when you wake up, even the most pleasant dream has been forgotten. Dreams are where amnesia waits for us every day, daring us to battle against it. We are like animals in that moment, helpless against the nature of ourselves. We will forget. We always forget. _

I had calmed down, my tears had finally stopped and the two of us were left in that embrace. It felt like if we let go, we would never find each other again. We could have sat there forever, but the fact that we were in a gallery filled with creatures and paintings that wanted to eat us finally made us break apart. Garry looked at me, obviously trying to piece something together. I did the same, but for me, I was just trying to remember why this man was so important to me.

"I'm not sure where to start here..." He trailed off, then seemed to come to some sort of resolution to ask me all the questions he could possibly ask me. "Why are you older?"

"It's been a long time." I couldn't bring myself to say "_since I last saw you_," because I really could not pinpoint when I had met him before. Just that I had been much younger.

He nodded in response, accepting my short answer. "Alright, so you made it out of the Fabricated World. Why did you come back?"

Fumbling with the hem of my shirt, I thought. It had not been my choice to come back. I didn't know why I was here or why any of this was happening. "I don't know."

Garry sighed, obviously frustrated with my unhelpful answers. It was just that I didn't was to tell him I had forgotten who he was. Though I would have to tell him eventually. I finally decided on explaining myself now rather than later to avoid confusion. He obviously believed I fully remembered him.

He was sitting in thought, and I broke the silence with my own quiet voice, though it felt like I was yelling. "Garry?"

He smiled in response. "Yea?"

"I-I don't know how to say this, but I don't... I mean..."

"Come on Ib, what's wrong?"

"I don't know who you are."

He froze. Fear etched onto his face, but then it changed into a quizzical look. I mentally smacked myself for saying it like that. Of course he would be confused that I had specifically said his name and hugged him in a grandiose reunion only to admit I don't even know the guy.

"W-wait, I meant that I just don't...remember a lot of things."

"How much do you remember?"

"Your name. That we had been through a lot together... In this gallery." Surprisingly enough, he just nodded. Gaining a sudden thoughtful look, he leaned back against the wall and sighed. "Should we start over then?"

I raised my eyebrows incredulously as he grinned playfully and held out his hand, "Nice to meet you, I'm Garry."

Rolling my eyes, I shook it and played along. At least he had taken it well, and now I wasn't trapped into such an awkward situation. I smiled; he was just thoughtful like that.

After gathering our thoughts for a few minutes, we began to prepare ourselves for what lay ahead of us. I bit my lip. Even if I didn't exactly remember, I was beginning to piece things together. It was not hard to figure that this place had been the subject of many a nightmare in my nearly sleepless childhood. They had often scared me so bad that I would insist on the light being perpetually switched on, though even that had never kept the disturbing images from my mind long. The darkness would always find me.

Garry shook my shoulder. I glanced up at him, and he gave a little smile. "It's dangerous for a young woman to be all on their own, so I'll stick with you!"

There was that flash of memory again, like subconscious thoughts bubbling up from within, just waiting for the chance to boil over. The way everything seemed to be repeating itself... I made an instant decision that nothing would be repeated.

Not that I could remember what had happened before. But Garry had been in the gallery all this time, while I escaped alone. It was not hard to imagine the turn of events that had happened all those years before.

The mere thought of leaving him in such a horrific place disgusted me, and I feared to ask him about it. This led to the level of an uncomfortable feeling rising until I had to will myself to not think about the possibilities. When I glanced at his calming face, I realized that I owed him so much more than I knew.

"Let's go Ib."

A strong hand took my own. I was immediately comforted by his presence as we stood in front of a door leading to the unfamiliar peril that awaited us.


End file.
